The Politics of Tunes: A Void Too Big to Fill

The music world lost a legend on June 18 when Clarence Clemons, the “Big Man” of Bruce Springsteen’s E Street Band, passed away at the all-too-young age of 69. With hips and a back that made it hard for him to even stand up on stage, it sometimes felt like Clemons was 69 going on 89. But Clemons and his prolific saxophone sounded like 69 going on 39 . . . and that was all that mattered.

Thanks to my Dad, I’ve been a Springsteen fan for as long as I can remember. I can’t recall the date or year or song it was that made me a believer, but I do know that it was because of the Big Man rather than the Boss. My Dad just calls him Clarence. “Listen to Clarence!” he’d scream with a smile on his face as we’d drive home from baseball practice, trying to teach his son about musicianship as he’d turn up the timeless Born to Run album.

The Big Man truly was larger than life, so much so that when my friend Jon sent me a text simply stating “RIP Clarence Clemons,” I just didn’t want to believe him. Some bands go on after one of their members passes away or quits or retires. Crosby, Stills, and Nash have done alright since ol’ Neil left. The Rolling Stones have managed for more than forty years without founding member Brian Jones. The Red Hot Chili Peppers pushed on without original guitarist Hillel Slovak and drummer Jack Irons. But the E Street Band will never be the same.

At 61, Springsteen might still have the energy and showmanship that helped make him the greatest live act in music history. For his and all of our sakes, I sure hope he does, because Springsteen didn’t reach the Pantheon for his acoustic sets. He certainly didn’t make it into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame for the Nebraska album. And Springsteen didn’t become the Boss because of songs like “My Hometown” and “Pony Boy.” Yes, those and other songs are plenty good and special in their own right, but they have nothing on sacred Springsteen anthems like “Jungleland,” “Badlands,” and “Spirit in the Night.” Why? No sax. No soul. No Big Man.

I’ve been fortunate enough to see the E Street Band in concert four times. I’ll never forget the first show – August 17, 2003, at Dodger Stadium. It was my first concert, and my Dad took me. We sat way up top, and each time I put the binoculars to my face, I did my best to find Clarence. Even if I couldn’t see him at all times, I could always hear him.

I’ll never forget this most recent show either – September 30, 2009, at the Meadowlands. Turns out it was the last time I got to see the E Street Band with Clarence. And what a perfect way to say goodbye. Springsteen played the entire Born to Run album straight through, from the first chords of “Thunder Road” to the final notes of “Jungleland.” If you know anything about the album then you know I got to see and hear a lot of Clarence.

To close a show that ran well over three hours, Springsteen brought back the celebratory track “Rosalita.” It’s a song about love, rock and roll, and letting the music lead you through the good and bad. My favorite part is when the Boss lets the Big Man take the microphone for one line. Clarence, aching body and all, gathered himself from his stool and strutted to the mic. He was a man amongst boys, a California Redwood in a forest of pine trees. When he got to the mic, Clarence put his mammoth head down and looked out the crowd of 60,000 strong. And he sang: “Someday we’ll look back on this and it will all seem funny.” We can all only hope that, someday, we can look back and say we had half as much fun as Clarence. Fortunately, we will always have his saxophone for our soundtrack.